by KC Kingmaker
My stomach did backflips. “Yes, he said that to me when I visited him in the initiation cell.”
Venn cocked his head. “You visited him?”
I shrugged, a blush coming to my cheeks. “I thought he would have told you. I . . . I just want to be allies with you guys, like Myria was.”
He grunted. “Fair enough. As for your sister, Alaric and Jace have told us to leave it alone, so that’s what I’ve done. Of course her disappearance burns inside me, but I don’t have Sunny’s luxury of invulnerability, in the sense that if I fuck up here, it means my death. I get sent back to the Unseelie Court. You see?”
I bowed my head. “Yes, I understand now. I never doubted your camaraderie with Myria.” I scratched my cheek. “Or Quentin, who I haven’t learned much about.”
“A good guy, Quen.” Venn’s lips tugged into a tight smile. “Also the reason our Glove broke. Or at least the catalyst for it.”
“How so?”
Venn sighed and flapped his lips. “I’m probably telling you too much, Coralia. I haven’t blabbed this much to someone in . . . ever.”
“Please, Venn,” I begged, giving him puppy-dog eyes. “If I’m going to find Myria, I feel like I need to know this stuff.”
“That’s your goal then? Finding Myria?”
“Yes.”
He paused for a moment, the chirring insects of the forest swarming all around us and seemingly building. “That’s admirable, hun. I can’t say I agree with it, but I respect it.”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course I will.”
“Even if it means . . .”
“That I get in trouble?” He winked and grinned. “I just won’t get caught.”
I matched his smile, my heart soaring. I felt like we were finally on the same page. Everything was happening so fast—I was learning so much. I didn’t want to leave our little nook in the woods. I could have spent the entire night there with Donovenn Gable.
After a lingering silence, Venn said, “When we took our Ghost final as a unit—as Hudson’s Glove—we were sent off campus, as is customary. We were sent to kill someone, though the Academy never tells us why we’re killing them or who they are in the grand scheme of things.”
“Sounds like Alaric Cane has some shady plans of his own.” His words made me nervous.
“Oh, definitely. The man is always up to something. I don’t think he’s evil though, just watchful.” He coughed into his hand and flicked the flower in his lap to the ground. “Shadowblades are meant to take out the ‘problem children’ of the supernatural world.”
“Right.” I still couldn’t imagine becoming a murderer-for-hire, and yet I was a few months away from doing just that. To pass my final and become a Phantom, I needed to do whatever my superiors told me.
I wasn’t sure I could intentionally kill someone in cold blood. Actually, I was pretty damn sure I couldn’t.
Venn’s voice brought me back to him. “The ‘hit gone wrong.’ We went into it less prepared than we should have. Well, I suppose Wrist Hudson takes the blame for that. He was supposed to guide us, and he guided us into an ambush.”
“Shit.”
“We were attacked by these . . . demonic creatures. Things I’d never seen before, with big black wings and leathery skin. We panicked and scattered.” Venn firmed his lips, jaw clamping down as a dark cloud framed his eyes. “One of the bastards got to Quentin and shoved him off a building rooftop, many stories high. No one could have survived that fall.
“When we got back to the Academy, we were broken. Hudson’s Glove was finished before it had truly begun or shown its potential. The sadness at losing Quen was overwhelming, but your sister took it the worst. Myria was different. She was kinder.”
“I know,” I said sadly, my shoulders slumping.
“She went back to the scene of the ambush, days later, without any of us knowing. She said she found something there—something that proved Quentin was still alive. She only told Sunny, at first, but he told me and Dax—not what she found, just what it meant. I still have no idea what she found, actually. Myria was always closest to Sunny.”
“Which I find so strange,” I muttered, “seeing as that they’re so different.”
Venn chuckled. “Opposites attract, right?”
“But Sunny said they never—”
“Oh, sure. I just mean they were close. I don’t think any of us wanted to taint the Glove by, uh, trying anything with Myria.” He cleared his throat and sat up. “Anyway, it all gets a bit hazy from there, Coralia.” Venn’s hands moved in a circle, eyes squinting like he was trying to see through a fog. “Your sister kept arguing with Sunny, saying they needed to go looking for Quentin. We all wanted to help, but Myria was the strongest-willed of us. The guys were trying to toe the line which, in hindsight, I feel pretty spineless about.
“And so, one night, Myria left by herself. In the darkness. And we haven’t seen her since.”
Venn went quiet. The abruptness of the end of his story left me pining for more. Wait, that’s it? That can’t be it! It was a story without an end. Everyone had made things sound so set-in-stone, when really it was anyone’s guess what had happened.
I couldn’t accept that. I understood why Venn wanted to fly under the radar—if he screwed up, even once, he was toast. The remaining members of Hudson’s Glove were worried about the consequences of disobedience and insubordination.
But I wasn’t.
When Venn turned to me, I felt he could read the eagerness and anxiety written on my face. “I’m sorry I don’t know more—”
“It sounds to me like both of them might still be alive, Venn.”
He winced and frowned. “Or dead, Coralia. Like I said, no one could have survived the fall Quentin took. And it’s been months since Myria vanished—”
“I get Sunny now,” I said. Suddenly, I was on my feet, pushing a branch out of my face as it whacked me on the shoulder and pissed me off.
Venn stared up at me, looking like he’d just been struck. “I’m sorry, Coralia. Are you . . . angry with me?”
“No, Venn, but it sounds like I need to be talking to someone else about all this.”
For some reason, I wanted to get out of the forest. It was as if my blood itched and I could feel every tick and insect crawling on my body. The discomfort came on like a storm. A pressing need to find out more about Myria. “I appreciate you telling me everything, Venn. Now I have to go. I have to find Charli to get me out.”
He went to his feet. “But Cor—”
My hand snapped out, palm near his face. “Whatever it is you’re dying to tell me, it has to wait. I can’t be here anymore.” My bones were urging me to move, so I did. After a shiver, I hurdled through the branches and trees and found my way back into the clearing.
I left Venn looking dumbstruck and sad, which I regretted. But my mission had just taken a new turn.
I could no longer ignore what had driven me to Shadowblade Academy—why I had come here in the first place.
Chapter 30
Venn
MY HAND INSTINCTIVELY reached out for Coralia as she took off. She vanished into the trees without a second glance.
I wanted to chase after her. I wanted to tell her how I felt about everything we’d just done, and everything I hoped to do in the future with her.
Over the past hour, things had irreparably changed. Our lovemaking had been sudden, magnetic, and cosmic. Coralia Hargrave was not afraid to take what she wanted, and she had wanted me.
Which worked out, because the feeling had been mutual. So damn mutual.
I wondered what she thought of our little jaunt in the woods, and how she thought of me after I spilled my guts to her. Did she enjoy it as much as I did? Because I’m ready to profess my fucking undying love for that damn woman, and I still hardly know her.
I wasn’t sure if I had made a drastic mistake in opening my big mouth, talking about my upbringing and dark past as an accidental murderer, how
Headmaster Cane had saved me, and how Hudson’s Glove had failed before we’d even gotten started.
Coralia running off made me ponder if she was as carefree and freewheeling as she seemed. If she feels the same love I feel, she would have asked me to come with her, no?
Or, what if it was all a ruse?
My eyes widened as terrible thoughts formed in my head: Coralia as a spy. A double agent of some kind. Who would she be working for? Why would she dive into Hudson’s broken Glove to find her answers?
I leaned back against the tree, crossing my ankles and folding my arms. I tucked my chin toward my chest and racked my brain. There has to be a reason Headmaster Cane has asked me to spy on her, right? He obviously knows more than I do about Coralia . . . but not enough. Which is why I know he’s going to order me to kill her, sooner or later.
Guilt flooded through me, creeping up my spine like a physical entity. I shuddered, abruptly feeling like a total piece of shit.
I had tried to say the words. Tried to explain what I actually was. And I had failed miserably. Each time I’d been ready to spill my darkest secret—that I only got close to her so I could spy on her—something had come up. First it was the sweaty session under the canopies. Then it was her eagerness to leave and learn more about Myria.
The irreparable change I felt came from within. My feelings had never lessened for the woman, but now they burned with an intensity that scared me.
With sudden surety, I knew my mission as a spy was a farce.
I might have “only gotten close to her” because I’d been ordered to . . . in the beginning. Now I wanted to be close to her because her spirit called to me unlike any woman I’d ever met.
The soft, vanilla scent of her skin. The heat of her hands on my flesh, legs wrapped around my waist. The fierce loyalty she showed her sister and friends. The unimaginable beauty within and without. They drew me to her, calling to me like a siren on a lagoon’s banks.
Singing . . . pleading . . . warning.
Coralia can’t be a spy. I’m the fucking spy. The thought hit me decisively. She is just concerned about her sister, and she’s not wrong to be angry with me and point out that nothing really adds up.
I had only taken Myria and Quentin’s disappearances at face value before. Coralia showed me the error of my ways, and how that was a faulty way to think.
After all, we were at Shadowblade fucking Academy. Even the shadows had agendas here. Nothing was what it seemed—least of all Quentin’s death and Myria’s vanishing act.
When Coralia said she needed to be talking to someone else . . . to Sunny . . . jealousy and self-doubt had rippled through me. I’m not worthy to help her, because I already failed to help Myria when she needed it most.
Coralia made it clear to me what a spineless bitch I’d become; how I’d only worried about myself and not my Glove.
The team was my family. Family fought and squabbled, but at the end of the day we had each other’s backs. How can I ever call myself a Glovemate if I try to forget about Quentin and Myria and let sleeping dogs lie, as Wrist Hudson and Headmaster Cane prefer?
Quentin and Myria are my brother and sister, just like Dax and Sunny.
I had been playing it too safe for too long, following orders like a good boy and doing what was asked of me. I’d never had a reason to step out of line before—the consequences of disobedience were simply too dire.
But now I had a reason.
And she had just spirited away from me to pursue her detective work, after giving me one of the most memorable moments of my life.
Recalling the heart-pumping time we’d had, like a couple of steamy exhibitionists uncaring about who saw us in the open—just hungry, greedy, voracious animals lost in the throes of lust—made me realize what I had suspected all along.
I jolted up from the tree, clenching my fists at my sides, my passion and drive reignited.
Who am I kidding? I could never harm a hair on Coralia’s body.
I needed to go to Headmaster Cane and tell him. Make him understand. I needed him to know I was finished being his fucking lackey. If it led to my suspension, expulsion, or worse, I didn’t care.
Fear wasn’t going to drive me any longer.
I needed to stand by my convictions, once and for all. Even if she thought me weak and didn’t see me the same way, I loved Coralia Hargrave.
I was ready to do anything to prove that to her.
Chapter 31
Sunny
SEATED ON THE EDGE of my bed, I stared down at the object on my lap. The Academy was practically empty outside, most of the students partaking in the traditional after-midterm celebrations in the nearby woods. I had been invited, but I was in no mood to party.
I was busy having a dark night of the soul, reminiscing on past times with my Glove, before things had fallen apart. Things had seemed simpler just a year before.
Before Coralia showed up.
If I was being honest with myself, I couldn’t blame the younger Hargrave sister for the crumbling of my team. It began before that, with Quentin’s death and Myria’s disappearance. She simply showed up at a strange time, making me suspicious and aggressive.
At first, I thought Coralia arrived as a replacement. When Headmaster Cane ordered we take her from her human trappings, I assumed he meant to insert her into our lives to make us forget Myria. Which would never happen.
It pissed me off, seeing the similar features of the new Hargrave sister, which reminded me of the old sister I appreciated so much. The whole affair made my attempt to capture her in that alley half-assed. I preferred she stay away from my people.
Now I knew better. Coralia came on her own volition. She wanted to be here, not to replace Myria, but to search for her. So far, she was the only other person I could recognize who wanted to know the answers. Wanted to learn the truth.
And I had shunned her. I had ridiculed her, bullied her, turned my back on her when she showed me nothing but kindness and understanding during my imprisonment in the initiation cell.
Inviting her to join the Shadowball team had been a cheap ploy I was sure she saw right through. A weak reconciliation. Even then, I resisted letting her in.
Why must I be so defensive? What has she ever done to me?
Shadowblades were meant to be secretive. It came with the territory. Letting someone know our innermost secrets gave them an entry-point into our lives. From there, the gates opened to despair, disappointment, and, ultimately, betrayal.
My fingers trailed over the black glove resting on my lap. The irony wasn’t lost on me. It was the last remnant of Quentin Argyle, my Glovemate, found by Myria when she went back to the site of Quen’s death and discovered it on the pavement where he’d fallen.
Myria told me she found no signs of blood spatter. No crumpled body. Only this glove.
When she came to me with it, she said it proved Quen was alive. I wanted to believe her, yet I couldn’t let my true feelings be known at the time. I had told her to keep quiet about things like that. If the higher-ups at the Academy learned we were snooping around following our final Ghost assignment, we would have both been expelled. Or perhaps executed.
As far as the official report, Quentin Argyle had died at the hands of a demonic entity during our assignment. During the “hit gone wrong,” as we called it.
His death opened a cavernous hole inside the remaining Glovemates. We became less trusting of each other. Venn and Dax wanted to know what Myria and I were up to. We wouldn’t tell them, because we wanted to keep them “safe,” but they wouldn’t have understood that.
I respected Venn and Dax’s audacity.
In hindsight, I realized Myria’s words had been a cry for help. She hadn’t just been telling me Quentin was still alive—she had been warning me she was going to do something about it, and that I could help her if I wanted. Either way, she’d had her own plan.
I wished I had seen the signs at the time. I wished I had done the admirable thing and joined her.
Yet, back then, I was weak. If I knew then what I knew now—that losing Quentin would mean losing her as well—I would have joined her in a heartbeat. I would have spearheaded the fucking search party.
As far as Myria had been concerned, rescuing Quentin meant bringing the Glove back together. It was as easy as that. We might have even uncovered Academy secrets in the process, or exposed some dirty truths.
I waited on the edge of my bed for what seemed like hours. I knew the woman would show up eventually.
Coralia Hargrave had etched herself into the fabric of our Glove, whether I liked it or not. She had gained traction, seducing Venn and Dax and, in some ways, even me.
When my thoughts had run dry, circling over and over and pissing me off the more I thought of all the ways things had screwed up, a knock at my bedroom door jerked me from my memories.
I lurched off the bed, tucked Quentin’s glove into my pants pocket, and stormed over. With a deep breath of preparation, I swung it open. “Hello, Vivi.”
Genevieve’s dour face lit up. A haughty smirk came to her smooth cheeks and she pumped her hip out to rest a hand there. “Had a change of heart, Sunny?”
“I invited you to the Shadowball team, did I not?”
She scoffed. “Only to soothe my anger. We both know that . . . daddy.”
My lip tugged into a smirk. Old habits die hard. I stepped out of the doorway and motioned her in. “Please. I want to apologize for the way I acted before.”
“You mean like a total asshole, even when you had your cock stuffed halfway inside me?”
I cringed at her lewd remark. She had called me a cheater and a liar, thinking I’d been fucking Coralia. At the time, even the thought of that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
But here I was, the one apologizing, for doing nothing more than standing up for Coralia’s honor.
Now why can’t I do that when the princess is around me? Why do I have to wait for this floozy to pop off before I speak up on Coralia’s behalf?